


Soaring

by Linane



Series: The Sound of Silence [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmates, fili and kili are not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/pseuds/Linane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can find me on <a href="http://linane-art.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote>





	Soaring

 

 

Tip of his index finger to the tip of his nose and loose fist pointing downwards, shaken a bit.

_Can I please have a carrier bag?_

The shopping assistant smiles at him and helps him rub the edges together to open one.

Open palm to his chin, movement of his lips.

_Thanks._

He packs his groceries away, collects his change and waves his goodbyes.

“You have wicked braids!” She calls after him. “I really like them. They look so different!”

 _The Yanomami tribe thought so too_ , he thinks, remembering the reverent strokes to his starkly contrasting blond hair, the beginning of his next article forming in his head.

He gives her a playful wink, before catching up with Kili, who seems to be studying the disposable grill tray with great interest.

“Coming? Or are you planning on setting the balcony on fire again?” he asks, one hand curling comfortably around Kili’s waist.

“For the last time: it was an accident! It’s not my fault the sausages were particularly fatty!”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon boyfriend, feed me.”

 

\---

 

“Wait, what was that?” he asks, putting his mug back on the kitchen counter, so he can replicate the movement with his hands.

“Tickets?” Kili repeats the sign.

“No, before.”

Two elliptical circles with both hands in opposite directions, with just the index fingers straightened out. “Conference.”

Fili nods and repeats the gesture as best as he can.

“No, at an angle,” Kili gently corrects and demonstrates once more.

Fili smiles when this time Kili nods in approval.

He counts the sign language among the most precious things Kili has given him. He’s got a long way to go yet and even Kili isn’t completely fluent, but he enjoys learning new words – each and every one of them taking him one step closer towards being able to express himself. He thought about signing up for a course, but he feels less self-conscious with Kili, safer, exchanging words and love for new gestures.

“So are you coming?”

“Do I have to?” He picks up his mug again and doesn’t mind it, when Kili steps closer in that move he used to interpret as intrusive, but has now learned to see as an offer of support.

“No, of course not. But it’s the Exhibition opening. Who knows when I’m going to have another opportunity to show you off like this.”

Fili drowns for a moment in the little sparks of mischief in the hazel eyes he’s watching.

It’s not a real question of course – this is important to Kili, so Fili will be there for him. “I suppose it depends on whether you can behave,” he offers a smug little grin. “Remember what happened last time you put me in one of those fancy suits?”

“I remember very well indeed,” Kili murmurs in agreement. “Why do you think I want you there?”

He pretends to consider, while he fishes out his teabag and bins it, then pushes up on his toes to deliver a soft, but not-quite-chaste kiss to Kili’s lips.

“I’m not wearing a bowtie again though.”

 

\---

 

There is something about writing that gives Fili a vindictive kind of satisfaction. It offers him a totally unlimited amount of words and a potentially unlimited audience. And nothing, not even God or fate, can get in his way.

Most writers nowadays are Voiceless, some turning a personal tragedy into successful career choice.

The written word becomes cheap, yet precious, and therefore popular. Newspaper, magazine, and book sales soar. Humanity, it seems, still has a lot to say.

It all starts with a journal.

Dis is the first to mention that keeping a journal during their travels might help Fili organise his thoughts and select those that are worth sharing, which in turn would help him make the same decisions easier in everyday life.

It’s Kili, who reads the first carefully selected passages and recognises their potential. It’s Fili's natural perceptiveness that appeals in his style, he claims.

He still loves watching the world around him. He thinks if his sight was taken away from him instead of his voice, he’d suffer more.

Those blue eyes trace everything and everyone, only they’re softer now, kinder, more curious, having lost their hard and unyielding edge.

If he’s absolutely honest with himself, Fili goes to Africa with Kili at least in part to please him. In a way, he finds, it’s easier being Voiceless in a foreign country, because there are no language barriers. Sure, the sign language is different everywhere, but being used to trying to convey ideas on a simpler, more universal level, gives him the advantage. They continue to travel around the world, with Kili shooting everything that happens to stumble in front of his lens and Fili catching fragments of his thoughts, like old friends, and gently coaxing them to settle down on paper.

It helps as well that writing gives Fili an independent source of income, evening out his relationship with Kili. It takes time, but slowly the sense of self-worth returns, then confidence, then humour.

So when Kili asks him to move to another city with him, to buy and make a new home _together_ , he doesn’t hesitate. He’s allowed the sense of belonging to seep into his bones and he’s too tired to let it terrify him anymore.

 

\---

 

Fili spots her as soon as he walks out of the warm, air-conditioned space of the café and back into the dry, frosty air outside. She’s in an alleyway to the side, out of sight, unlike Fili, who would have chosen to stay as close to the café as possible without being chased away, so he could watch all those assholes pretending he didn’t exist.

She’s trying to roll a fag, but her trembling fingers aren’t steady enough to accomplish anything but spill the precious little heap of tobacco.

He crouches down, passes her his mug of coffee and simply takes over. The fragile paper trembles in the cold gust of wind, but he shields it with his free hand, stashing it with a small amount of tobacco, not too much, because it has to last, then filter, clearly recycled after somebody else used it. He rolls it up expertly, licks the edge of the paper to make it stick and taps twice against his knee, before passing it over.

The look of resentment changes into one of curiosity.

He can’t save everyone – that’s the hardest lesson of his entire life. He used to walk past those that knew him, before, used to see the way they looked at him and feel like a traitor. Most would walk away whenever he tried to approach them, one or two giving him a quiet smile before they left.

Soon the alleyway to Kili’s flat was empty.

He manages to roll up another four before Kili appears with his own cup, his fancy order having taken longer to fulfil.

“Alright loverboy, stop flirting, we’ve got places to be,” Kili too has learned his lessons from Fili’s interactions with the Voiceless and one of them is that humour is an excellent, non-judgemental ice-breaker.

Fili pats her knee, twice, in a universal gesture of _take care of yourself_ and shakes his head when she tries to pass him back his coffee.

He knows she will think about him at least for the rest of the day. Perhaps some other time, when it gets really tough.

“Want to share mine?” Kili asks when Fili’s hand slips into his.

“Is it full of cream?”

“Yup. And cinnamon.”

Fili rolls his eyes, but takes a sip all the same.

 

\---

 

One final hard thrust, warm brown eyes the shape of almonds, fingers intertwined so tightly that he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to, and pleasure, overpowering pleasure tears through Fili, making him cry out.

They curl up together in warmth and softness, Fili’s own hands tucking the edges of the covers in tightly around their shoulders. They laugh and kiss and whisper confessions, the sort of confessions you would only ever tell the other half of your soul.

He didn’t know this sort of happiness existed. This sort of quiet contentment, as Kili’s fingers roam his back, causing delicious little shivers.

“I love you,” he whispers, grateful that he’s able to say it, actually out loud; that he wasn’t just allowed to die, silent, broken and alone.

And isn’t that all anyone could wish for?

Among all the tragedy and pain of the Great Silence there is one gift: overlooked, often rejected, sometimes despised.

No matter what happens, you don’t have to be alone.

 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/).


End file.
